


The Adventures of Jack Daniels and Rain Man

by mcgarrygirl78



Series: The Lawrence Chronicles [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3823123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The fall is only about five feet,” Castiel looked over the banister.  “While you most likely would’ve broken your back there was a high probability of survival.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Adventures of Jack Daniels and Rain Man

**Author's Note:**

> This fic immediately follows Getting the Party Started.

“Hey you, Trenchcoat?”

Dean stumbled out of the house and onto the porch. He was about to lose his balance, his hands were full so he couldn’t throw them out to catch his fall. Luckily, he somehow righted himself. That was worth a victory swig of Jack Daniels.

“Are you listening to me?” he looked for something to throw at the kid. That wasn’t right, maybe he was deaf or something. “Trenchcoat!”

“Me?” the kid turned around. “Are you talking to me?”

“You're the only one out here man, and you're wearing a trenchcoat.”

“Oh,” the kid smiled. “I guess I am. OK.”

“I haven’t seen you around here before. What's your name?”

“Castiel.” He replied. “You're making a strange face.”

“What the hell is a Castiel?” Dean tilted his head to the side and studied him. 

They were the same height but the kid looked younger than him. Most people thought that Dean was older than he was anyway. They didn’t even card him when he went into the college bars. The teenagers around here would be happy for that kind of thing. Dean knew the shit life handed down to him aged him beyond his years.

“I'm Castiel.” He pointed to himself.

“I know that.” Dean sighed. “You want some whiskey?”

“I don’t drink.” Castiel shook his head.

“Oh…you want some beer?”

“I don’t drink.” He repeated.

“Beer isn’t drinking, kid, beer is beer.” Dean said.

“That’s one way to look at it, I guess.”

“What the hell is a Castiel anyway?” he stumbled over to the banister and sat down on it. Putting the beer beside him, Dean held onto his bottle. “Sounds like a hippie name.”

“That’s rude, Dean.” Castiel said.

“How do you know my name?”

“Everyone in this town knows your name.”

“That’s both good and bad.” Dean nodded. “Seriously, what the hell does Castiel mean?”

“Shield of God.” He said. “Castiel is one of the most important angels of the lord.”

“Oh…OK.”

He leaned back to take some whiskey to the head. Dean felt himself falling and knew there was nothing he could do about it. His arms began to flail, though he still held onto his bottle as if it was a security blanket. Castiel grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him back into a sitting position. It wasn’t easy, Dean Winchester was mostly muscle, but Castiel wasn’t as scrawny as he sometimes appeared.

“You just saved my life.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair, now wet from the falling rain.

“The fall is only about five feet,” Castiel looked over the banister. “While you most likely would’ve broken your back there was a high probability of survival.”

“You're strange.”

“Thank you.” Castiel did something that resembled a smile.

“Sit down kid,” Dean patted the spot next to his beer. “I don’t like people looming over me.”

Castiel did as he asked, sticking his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat. They were silent for a while but he had never minded the quiet. Castiel loved the sound of rain though. He loved the thunder and lightning, believed it was God speaking. Cas would often walk through storms and come home soaking wet. It was one of the most glorious feelings in the world. There were so many things that brought him closer to God; walking in the rain was just one of them.

“Why don’t you like people looming over you?” he asked.

“What?” Dean looked at him.

“You told me to sit down because you don’t like people looming over you. Why?”

“Where I come from that means someone is about to do something to you.”

“Where you come from? Don’t you live about a mile from here?” Cas asked.

“I didn’t mean it literally, Castiel.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, this place is a mansion…living a mile may as well be a light year. Where do you live?”

“I live in this mansion.”

“Tell me you're joking.”

The Jack Daniels was gone. Dean didn’t feel bad as he chucked the bottle over the banister and onto the overly manicured lawn. He picked up his beer.

“I’m really bad at jokes.” Cas said. “Crowley is my cousin.”

“Sucks to be you.”

“Sucks to be…?”

“Where are you from, kid, outer space?” Dean asked.

“I used to get bullied a lot back home so my parents thought a change of scenery would be a good thing. The problem is I don’t feel like I'm doing much better here.”

“Have you gotten your ass kicked yet?”

“No.” Cas replied.

“Then you're doing much better here. Watch out for Crowley though; he's a sneaky son of a bitch.”

“If you don’t like him then why are you at his party?” 

“There’s beer and his dad has an extensive liquor cabinet. Everybody parties here…that’s the way things roll in this part of town. I don’t have to be friends with that dick to drink his liquor.”

“Your mouth is rather foul.” Cas said.

“Most of the time.” Dean conceded. “You never told me where you were from.”

“I know.”

Dean looked at him…this kid was a strange one. No doubt he was a member of the extensive Crowley family. They were one of the richest families in Kansas though everyone knew their money came from less than reputable means. But the senior Crowley was the COO of some swanky finance corporation in Kansas City. He spoiled his son and namesake rotten, especially after his wife ran off. 

At least that’s what he told everyone. The rumor around town was that he had her killed. Dean was more likely to believe the latter. So where did the weird kid in the trenchcoat fit in? His parents probably thought Lawrence was some boring place where it was impossible to find trouble. Dean Winchester knew that was anything but true.

“I gotta go, Trenchcoat.” His empty beer bottle went the same way as the whiskey bottle before it. “I guess it was nice to meet you.”

“I could go with you.” Cas stood as well.

“You got someplace else to be? I thought you lived here.”

“My absence would hardly be noted. Besides, I like walking in the rain.”

“I wasn’t going to be walking.” Dean said.

“You can't drive in your condition.” Cas said.

“Am I pregnant now?”

“You're intoxicated, Dean.”

“I'm barely buzzed.” He flagged away the notion.

“You stumbled out of the house and almost fell off the banister.” Cas’ tone was matter of fact.

“So you're going to walk me home? That’s supposed to be safer?”

“I like walking in the rain.”

“I'm staying at Bobby Singer’s…its damn near two miles from here.”

“Why are you staying there?” Cas asked.

“Rule #1, Trenchcoat, don’t ask too many questions.”

“Got it.”

“C’mon Rain Man,” Dean called Cas with his hand as he started down the steps. “This is probably gonna be a long walk.” He looked back and saw the teen hadn’t moved from the porch. “Hey, kid, c'mon! I don’t have all night.”

“I'm Rain Man?” Cas asked, pointing to himself. “I don’t understand the reference.”

“Walk.” Dean said.

He started down the cobblestone walkway and onto the street. Cas buttoned his coat and ran to catch up.

***


End file.
